


A Winter's Tale

by WhoStarLocked



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Misunderstandings, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoStarLocked/pseuds/WhoStarLocked
Summary: "What on earth had possessed him?To say those things...To Bucky.He truly is an idiot."It's Christmas Eve, and Clint has driven Bucky away from his own damn Christmas party with his moronic mouth. He tries to fix things his own way.akaIt's Christmas Eve, and no one should ever let Clint try and solve problems with emotions, because he ends up creating more problems.





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDarkestDandelion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestDandelion/gifts).



> Hey, so there is implied suicide in this part of the fic - it is only implied, and appears to have happened off-screen. Please don't read if this is a trigger!!  
> A couple of other things:  
> This is based on a song performed by David Essex by the same name of this fic, the lyrics will be included at the end of the fic as the third chapter. 
> 
> Also, shoutout to my housemate, who told me it was totally fine to put the chapter cut where it is!

The room hums, the air filled with warmth as the sounds of the party mingle into one another and the night. A gentle warm glow lights the whole floor, reflecting off glasses, sequinned clothes and the shining decorations alike. A high giggle breaks the surface of the layer of background noise for a moment then trails away again, only to be replaced by the chinking of glasses and calls of toasts; gentle music playing in the background.

Clint is, currently, the only member of the avengers whose partner isn’t here with them. He casts his eyes round the room, and he can see Bruce with his arm wrapped around Betty, as they chat to Erik Selvig; next to them, Jane is leaning into Thor’s chest. He last saw Tony whisk Pepper off to the dance floor, where they’re currently waltzing. Natasha is leaning to whisper something into Steve’s ear.

 His chest aches.

Sighing, he deposits his empty glass on a nearby table and wraps his arms round himself, though he knows it won’t do much to deter the empty feeling settling into his bones.

This is all his own fault anyway.

_“Jesus, will ya stop needing me for ten goddamn seconds?!”_

Clint closes his eyes against the memory of himself, wrecking his life.

_“I can’t even breathe, for fuck’s sake!”_

What on earth had possessed him?

_“Get out of my goddamn space!”_

To say those things...

_“Yeah, well, maybe I did but now I want you gone!”_

To _Bucky._

He truly is an idiot.

* **

He’s alone for the majority of the party.

Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised – he’s at Steve’s Christmas party and he’s the asshole who drove Bucky away.

The whole point of this goddamn thing was to celebrate Steve and Bucky’s first post world war two Christmas together.

And he’s ruined it.

Clint’s already noticed Steve glaring at him intermittently. He’s spotted Natasha’s thoughtful gaze.

He looks at his reflection in the window he’s stood by, and a thousand memories flood to the forefront of his mind.

  _Bucky pressed up against him, breath tickling his ear as he leans down and makes filthy promises to Clint. The night they’d first met, Clint was checking that his eyes were the right shade of blue, and Barnes wondered over to see the view – the way they’d both known he meant scan for threats. Being curled up in Bucky’s lap as Bucky read a book, sprawled out in the only patch of evening sun._

He doesn’t realise he’s banging his head against the window until Tony settles a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re scaring people, birdbrain.” He grins, but the joke falls flat between them. Clint can’t even reply. He just looks at Tony; he can feel the tears building in his eyes, but he’s not started crying yet.

Tony’s face softens and he sighs, taking a step closer to Clint.

“Look, I get it, y’know? The whole,” he gestures with one arm, but his gaze never leaves Clint’s. “Not being good with words, thing? I _get_ it.” He breathes out slowly, turns to lean his back on the expanse of glass. Clint can only see the way he turned his back to Bucky.

“You can still fix this.” It’s said quietly, in a voice not meant to travel far.

Clint snorts, wraps his arms around his chest. Leans back on the window. Watches the city lights.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Stark. _You’re_ the one who can fix things. I just...” Clint sighs, feels the first tear roll down his cheek. “I just shoot them down before they even know there’s danger.”

In his peripheral vision, he sees Tony shift slightly.

“It’s not something I can teach you, you gotta figure it out yourself.” He mutters before rejoining the thong of people.

Clint lets himself cry silent tears, looking down on the city.

* * *

It takes him another hour – and another nine drinks – to work up the nerve to call Bucky.

He can barely breathe as the phone rings in his ear.

He doesn’t breathe when the call cuts off.

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t deserve to be the one all cut up about this.

It’s his _fault_.

Clint thinks about what Tony told him earlier.

_“But- I thought you loved me.”_

Clint closes his eyes and inhales sharply.  Bucky had been so sincere. Had meant it. Had absolutely believed that the man in front of him loved him.

And somehow Clint had managed to convince him that that wasn’t true.

It should’ve been impossible, because it was true. Clint did love him. And nothing, fucking nothing in this world would change that.

But there, in that moment, he’d needed space. He’d needed to be alone, just for a minute more. So he’d let his temper get the better of him, and spat out the first cutting words that came to mind.

It was worse, somehow, that Bucky hadn’t been angry. Clint knows anger, intimately, and he can deal with anger. But upset? Fucking, tears and a weak agreement before the love of his life walked away from him?

He slumps down in a chair near the speakers and stares at his phone screen, trying to word a text, knowing a call would be better.

_I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. And I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I just, I don’t even know anymore, I wanted a couple of minutes alone. Not even for anything, I just wanted to be alone, because I’d had enough with people right then and you walked in and hugged me and I just... I’m really sorry. And I know it’s too late, but I really need you to know that you were right, and I didn’t mean any of it. I love you, have loved you, will always love you, and I know I fucked things up for good but please at least let me apologise. Honestly, you’re better off without me, I’m such a failure. But, please, please if I get one thing right in life, can it please be that I persuade you to come back here? It’s your party, with Steve, and I’m so fucking sorry that I made you leave. I can’t put it into words, so please. I’m gonna send this, and then I’m gonna leave, because I have no right being here after what I said to you today, and I should’ve been able to admit that sooner and let you enjoy your party, but.. I’m trying? I’m so fucking sorry._

Clint grips his phone tightly as he makes his way across the room, avoiding Steve’s glare, and subtly weaving past Natasha’s bid to corner him. He nods once to Tony as he reaches the elevator.

He hits send.

* * *

Bucky’s never run so damn quick in his life.  

The text from Clint had sent his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach, only for it to be in his throat seconds later. What the fuck did Clint mean, _leaving_?

He pauses in the lobby, braces himself on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.  When the burning in his lungs has passed, he heads to the elevator, and it can’t get to the right floor quick enough at all.

He barges through into the room and falters. There’s a huge crowd of people, all dressed up fancy, clutching champagne or dancing with each other. He can’t see Clint. He doesn’t stand a cat in hell’s chance of seeing Clint.

Every time he thinks he sees a familiar streak of blonde, he turns, only to find that it’s a light, or just some random fan, or sponsor. Then the red catches his eye. That’s a much more unique hair colour.

He rushes over to Natasha, grabs her wrist. She turns to face him surprisingly calmly, simply raising a flawlessly shaped eyebrow in question.

“Where’s Clint?” He asks, suddenly feeling out of breath again.

Natasha purses her lips.

“Last I saw him, he was trying to sneak his way out of here.”

“Shiiit.” Bucky hisses, turning away, running metal fingers through his hair in disbelief. “I’m too late.”

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, her eyes narrowing as she considers him.

Bucky hands over his phone.

“He sent me this. I ran here, but he must’ve already gone. Where the hell would he go?” He’s rambling, but he doesn’t really care. He feels sick with dread. Natasha’s still frowning at his phone screen.

“You guys fought? Is that why he’s been fucking miserable?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, scrubs his hands over his face roughly. “He told me he didn’t love me anymore, so I left... I thought he’d come after me.”

Natasha winces.

“Yeah, no, he’s monumentally crap with talking about feelings.” She grimaces at him as she reads through the text again. “And apologising.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care about that. I just wanna find him.” Bucky answers, and his voice does not fucking wobble.

“Well, there’s plenty of snow on the ground.” Natasha says, giving him a squeeze on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure Steve doesn’t see you sneaking back out.”

With that, she melts back into the crowd.

“What does that mean?” Bucky calls after her, but either she doesn’t hear or won’t answer.  He turns himself away and slinks back to the door.  He pauses for a moment, trying to clear his head.

 _The nights are colder now_  
_Maybe I should close the door_  
 _And anyway the snow has covered all your footsteps_  
 _And I can follow you no more_

Bucky blinks as the lyrics of the song register.

Footsteps.

Snow.

_There’s plenty of snow on the ground_

Bucky bolts back into the elevator and runs back out onto the street. It’s Christmas eve, so for once it’s not actually that busy, and he picks out the tread of Clint’s falling-apart converse with ease. He must’ve changed before he left then.  He tries not to think about the falling snow obscuring the trail in front of him.

He tries really damn hard not to think about the new pair of purple converse sitting wrapped under the tree up there.

* * *

By the time he reaches the Brooklyn Bridge, the footprints have been filled. The snow here looks undisturbed, though he knows it can’t be.

The dark rectangle stands out a mile in the whiteness. Bucky wanders over to it. It’s someone’s phone.

No, wait.

It’s _Clint’s_ phone.

Bucky feels the blood drain from his face and he bolts back off the bridge, scrambles down to the edge of the icy water.

Surely he hadn’t...

“Clint!” He hollers. “Clint, please!”

He spends an hour searching the riverside, but there’s nothing to suggest that Clint was ever there.

* * *

When Bucky gets to the tower, the guests have gone. Which is probably just as well, he doesn’t really want to be seen with fucking tears freezing on his cheeks.

“Bucky!” Steve calls as soon as he steps out of the elevator. “Are you okay? What happened?” He asks, grabbing both of Bucky’s forearms.

Bucky sniffs, turns his head away, closes his eyes.

“I didn’t find him.” He chokes out. He hears more than sees Natasha stride over to him.

“Didn’t find wh-” Steve is cut short by a sob, and Bucky pushes the phone into Natasha’s hand.

“I got to the bridge, but it was snowing hard, an’ the footprints were gone, an’ I found that, but there ain’t no sign of him an’ I-” Bucky cuts off his wobbly ramblings with another sob, pulls his arms away from Steve and turns away, trying to hide his face.  

When he’s calmed down enough to be able to breathe, he turns back round. Steve, like most of them, still looks confused, Tony looks, shocked and pained and... guilty?

Natasha is staring impassively at the mobile. She’s unlocked it. Without looking up, she grabs something out of her clutch bag and hands it to Bucky.

It’s his own mobile.

With nine missed calls and two unread messages.

Bucky can barely type in his password, his fingers are shaking so much.

_22:30: Hey, so. you’re not picking up, you’re mad, i get it.  I don’t know what modern Christmas songs you know, but there’s this one. Called a winter’s tale. And well, google the lyrics. I just, i guess, that’s how i’m gonna think of you. And yeah, if there’s still any chance i haven’t completely driven you away, then.. it’d be nice if you rang?_

_22:58: Aww, who the hell am i kidding. I fucked up. It’s over. message received. Tell cap i’ve resigned. I won’t bother you anymore._

 

Well, fuck.

Bucky dissolves into sobs all over again. He doesn’t realise that he’s collapsed until Steve’s pulling him upright, cradling him to his chest. He can’t focus on anything.

Because Clint jumped, fully believing that Bucky hated him.

He as good as caused this.

It takes half an hour for him to run out of tears. When he’s finally able to take in his surroundings, he finds that most of them remain.

Tony’s crying into Pepper’s shoulder. Pepper doesn’t look too much better. Bruce and Betty are both staring at the ground, obviously still hung on disbelief. Thor just looks pained, Jane attempting to comfort him. He can feel cold tracks where Steve’s been crying into his hair.

Natasha isn’t there.

* * *

No one leaves, in the end. They eventually migrate to the couches, and settle in groups. No one says anything. It’s all too raw for words.

At somewhere around 3 a.m., Bucky’s too drained to resist the lull of sleep.

Natasha never reappears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, folks! I hope you enjoy it - GeorgeCantWrite, Talon_Tracer, ihaventsleptyetits4amoops, I hope this suffices as a Christmas present until I can actually afford those *laughs nervously*

It’s gone ten when Bucky surfaces the next morning. For a moment, he wonders why he’s crashed on the couch, with Steve’s arms wrapped around him.  Then his brain catches up with yesterday and he suddenly feels cold. He wiggles his way free of Steve’s lax grip, a numbing feeling settling into his chest.

“Aw fuck, you’re awake.”

Bucky jumps a fucking mile, is pulling a gun even as he registers that he knows the voice.

Bucky cannot process this.

“I’m asleep.” He mutters. “I have to be.”

“Uh, pretty sure you’re awake.”

_Holy shit._

It _is_ him.

Bucky draws back a fisted hand and even as he’s running across the space between them he’s not sure if he’s going to hit the blonde human disaster in front of him.

He can feel hot tears spilling over his cheeks as he wraps his arms around Clint’s torso and hugs him tight to his chest.

“You bastard,” He hiccough-cries, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You absolute – why the – you – fucking – _Clint!”_

Clint groans into his chest.

“I’m really sorry, Bucky. For everything.” Clint sighs, and Bucky doesn’t even have to look to know that Clint is starting to cry too.

“I must’ve dropped my phone going over the bridge. I never meant to hurt you!” Clint blurts out, and, yeah, Bucky can feel tears through his shirt.

“You fucking idiot.” Bucky manages to breathe out past the lump in his throat.

Bucky is suddenly acutely aware of the feeling of being watched. He turns his head, his grip on Clint tightening slightly, and assesses the room behind him.

It’s Tony.

He looks...

Yeah, he looks how Bucky feels.

“I’m really _so_ sorry, okay?” Clint’s babbling into Bucky’s chest, trusting that his enhanced hearing will still be able to make out his muffled words. “I should never have yelled at you, and then none of that shit would have happened last night, okay? And I – _fuck_ , Bucky, you _know_ how shit I am with words and emotions and all that crap, but I’ll fucking _try_ , okay? Like, really actually try, because yesterday? You didn’t _even do_ anything. I wasn’t even mad at you and now I’ve made you cry and I will never ever be able to find words that explain _just how_ fucking sorry I am for that, right, because they don’t exist – I can’t put it in words-”

“They don’t need to exist.” Bucky butts in, cutting Clint’s rambling short.  “Clint, honey, I know you’re sorry, okay? I know.”

Clint tenses in his arms. “That’s not the same as saying I’m forgiven.” He whispers, and Bucky knows he wasn’t meant to hear that.

“You bet your ass I’m gonna be mad with you once I’m done being happy you’re not dead, Barton. You told me you didn’t love me anymore!” Bucky tells him, but it’s gentle, and there’s no anger, just the tiny remnant of hurt. “So, no, not forgiven yet.”

Clint aborts a sob in Bucky’s chest.

“Where the hell did you go?” Tony blurts out from across the room.

Bucky can see tears in his eyes as well, though it doesn’t look like he’s crying yet.

“His rat-hole of an apartment in Bed-Stuy.” Natasha answered, sauntering into the room from the elevator.

Bucky can feel anger churn in his stomach at her blasé tone.

“And you didn’t think to mention that last night?”

“I wasn’t sure he’d be there. Didn’t want to get your hopes up. Let’s face it, Clint has a pretty shit record when it comes to that kind of stuff.” She replies calmly.

He leans his forehead against Clint’s hair and just... breathes.

Clint is alive.

Clint is alive, and he’s okay, and he’s here.

“Bucky?”

He hums.

“You know I love you, right? Like, forever. Ain’t nothing that’s gonna change the way I feel about you.”

Clint’s voice is wobbling all over the place. He’s leaned back in Bucky’s arms, those blue eyes searching his face intently.

He looks terrified.

“I love you too, you asshole.” Bucky replies, smiling weakly. “Just, please for the love of god, Clint, don’t pull a stunt like this again?”

Clint returns his smile tentatively.

“I’ll try.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. He leans forward, tilting his head slightly, his hands resting on either side of Clint’s face as he captures Clint’s lips with his own.

“I can work with that.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the song lyrics, as I said I'd post them. Please note I don't own any marvel characters (sadly) or the song, or the lyrics.

A Winter's Tale

Written by: Anthony Christopher Duhig / Jon Field / Glyn Harvard  
Performed by: David Essex

 

The nights are colder now   
Maybe I should close the door   
And anyway the snow has covered all your footsteps   
And I can follow you no more

The fire still burns at night   
My memories are warm and clear   
But everybody knows it's hard to be alone at this time of year

It was only a winter's tale   
Just another winter's tale   
And why should the world take notice   
Of one more love that's failed

A love that can never be   
Though it meant a lot to you and me   
On a worldwide scale we're just another winter's tale

While I stand alone   
A bell is ringing far away  
I wonder if you hear   
I wonder if you're listening   
I wonder where you are today

Good luck, I wish you well   
For all that wishes may be worth   
I hope that love and strength are with you for the length of your time on earth

It was only a winter's tale   
Just another winter's tale   
And why should the world take notice   
Of one more love that's failed

It's a love that can never be   
Though it meant a lot to you and me   
On a worldwide scale we're just another winter's tale

It was only a winter's tale   
Just another winter's tale   
And why should the world take notice   
Of one more love that's failed

It's a love that can never be   
Though it meant a lot to you and me   
On a worldwide scale we're just another winter's tale

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so for anyone wondering, this fic is a standalone! It doesn't fit into the All the Unknown Faces series.


End file.
